


Bliss

by IsleofSolitude



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), M/M, Oral Sex, Prostate Play, blasphemy if you squint, local hedonist finds new way to enjoy things, no penetration just intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25699777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsleofSolitude/pseuds/IsleofSolitude
Summary: Aziraphale wished he had discovered the bliss that came with blindfolds years ago.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 97
Collections: Name That Author Round Six





	Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> Written for NTA 6: Full Feral.

Aziraphale wished he had discovered the bliss that came with blindfolds years ago.

Oh, he knew of them, of course, in both the usual uses as well as the more...discreet ways they could be utilized, in the dark, behind closed doors.

But he had never thought he would enjoy it. 

The scent of Crowley above him was  _ intoxicating _ . Unable to see, he relied on his mouth, his tongue to map it, to savor it. The sound of Crowley somewhere above him, the smallest grunts magnified, the whisper of thighs on either side of his face a pleasant surprise that sent his heart racing. 

Beneath him, the dildo in his arse rubbed his prostate harder as he undulated. He felt full and loved and his tongue swiped again and again and again--

“Oh, yes, yes, Aziraphale, just like that.” Then Crowley was grinding down, and Aziraphale was  _ drowning _ , drowning and happy and out of his mind with pleasure. His hands clenched, wishing he could grab that waist, hold his lover in place and glut himself.

But his hands were held down, intertwined with slender fingers, and that was just as good, feeling the muscles work as Crowley shifted, the smallest feeling transformed into bliss and need.

He sucked harder, wrapped his lips around the bundle of nerves, heard Crowley curse, shivering above him as he gushed over Aziraphale’s face, the angel’s name hissed out between too fanged teeth. 

Hands stroked from soft wrists, over elbows. Fingers traced their way down to silvery-blonde curls and tangled in them as Crowley breathed through his aftershocks. 

“Let go, angel, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

The heat on Aziraphale’s face eased off, and then the sheets were rustling, and knees bumped together.

“Aziraphale.” In Crowley’s voice, his name was sanctified, worshipped, holier than any angel, any saint. 

The angel lunged up, wrapping his arms around the demon, a desperate whimper swallowed down. The extra weight on his waist helped him along as he wiggled frantically, trying to get to the perfect angle, the rhythm that would give him release.

Breaking the kiss, Aziraphale buried his face into a slender neck, licked the sweat that gathered there, tasted the pulsing heartbeat, matched it with his hips.

The prayer on the tip of his tongue curved it’s way down a lithe chest, flicked over a taut nipple, rested against an ear, and he whimpered again--

Moonlight rushed back into the room as the blindfold was torn off. Crowley’s face was wet with shared slick, eyes burning hot in the dark, and Aziraphale came, crying out his devotion to the one being he believed in.


End file.
